


I Ship Us

by Slytherkins



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Didn't Know They Were Dating, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, In Vino Veritas, It is the East! And Yuuri is the sun, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious!Yuuri is Oblivious, Pining, RUN Vitya RUN!, Self-Discovery, Takeshi secretly ships them harder than all y'all, VictUuri, Victor becomes a BNF in his own fandom, Victor could totes be a pinup, Victor is harder, Victor's been a bad boy, Vitya helps Yuuri with his self-esteem issues, Who decides this stuff?, You just KNOW they get reviews complaining they've portrayed Victor and Yuuri OOC, Yurio plans to invest in a stethoscope, Yurio sure seems to know a lot about this stuff, Yurio won't admit he has a crush, Yuuri Katsuki has the world's most perfect cock, Yuuri thinks he's a virgin, at least...Yuuri thinks it's their first time, because fuck gender roles, can't go wrong with slapstick, cinnamon rolls are delicious, closets are stuffy, did you really think VICTOR was Daddy?, everyone knew except the katsudon, feelz are an essential component of any and all victuuri related stuffs, have you SEEN Yuuri's Eros?, imbroglio is an underused word, makkachin needs to stop cockblocking, obvs Makkachin is the flower girl, seckrets, the triplets are ringbearers, turgid members, wanking, we're going to have a wedding apparently, writing is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-16 15:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherkins/pseuds/Slytherkins
Summary: The internet is a weird and wonderful place. For celebrities, it can be practically dangerous, fraught with reviews, blogs, fansites and gossip rags. Victor succeeds in ignoring it for the most part; but when Yuri calls his attention to a heretofore unexplored (by him) corner of skating fandom, the silver-haired bachelor finds what may very well be his deliverance from purgatory.But how does one go about unobtrusively introducing the object of one's affection to 'fanfiction'?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EspadaIV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EspadaIV/gifts).



“EH?!”

“What is it now, Yurio?” Victor chirped drunkenly from his seat across the table from the young man. 

Yuri slammed a fist on the tabletop. “Dammit, for the last time, my name isn’t Yurio!”

“Ah, sorry. Slip of the tongue,” Victor chuckled, sounding not at all sorry but definitely amused. His fledgling aspiring doppelganger was so entertainingly high strung. “So, Yu-ri,” he said, over-pronouncing the skater’s name, “what are you seeing on that prehistoric device that’s got you so upset, hm?”

“Fuck you, Victor! We aren’t all as rich as 'the legendary Victor Nikiforov’,” he said, sneering at the title. “Some of us have responsibilities. Did you ever think about that, you asshole? No, you’re just a lonely old fart. Just you and your fame to worry about. Why don’t you buy me a new phone instead of making fun of my old one, Grampa?”

Victor laughed at the gibe and waved his hands to beg peace, but Yuri’s words had cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

He  _ was  _ lonely. Which was why they were in Hasetsu. Though, Yuuri’s persistent shyness was proving difficult to overcome even now; and Victor somehow felt even lonelier being so near to the man who held his heart but not being able to hold the man himself. 

Which was also why he was presently drunk, wishing he was bold enough to force the issue out into the open with Yuuri. They were  _ so  _ close; and Victor cherished that closeness so much, he was afraid of jeopardizing it by rushing the bespectacled wallflower into confronting his feelings. Despite all of Victor’s none-too-subtle flirtations and Yuuri’s flustered reactions to them, Victor wasn’t convinced Yuuri even recognized the nature of those feelings. 

Of course, Yuuri wasn’t such a wallflower after a few drinks, but Victor didn’t want to risk another forgotten encounter, either. He would only ache the harder after and be no closer to his goal. 

He swallowed a frustrated sigh - then another mouthful of vodka - before turning a bleary-eyed smirk toward Yuri.   

“Are you avoiding my question?”

Yuri blushed, but having failed at redirecting the conversation, he muttered a response. 

“Yuri’s Angels,” he said, not really explaining anything. Victor knew Yuri cherished his fan club, no matter how they seemed to annoy him in person, and he frequented the fan sites devoted to him. Not that he’d ever confess to the obsession. 

“It’s bad enough that they write stories about me doing unspeakable things with other skaters,” he went on, once again bellicose, “but do they have to pair me with the fucking Katsudon?” he demanded, nonetheless seeming to read the offending piece of fiction with irate enthusiasm. 

“Eh? That’s a thing?” Victor asked, stretching to catch a glimpse of Yuri’s phone. The young man hurriedly yanked it out of view with a scowl. Victor pouted. 

He had wearied of his own fan base long ago. It wasn’t that he didn’t genuinely appreciate their support, there were simply so many of them, and so many sites and clubs and blogs. It really was too much to follow, so he had stopped trying. He’d never heard of this story phenomenon, though. 

“Hey, Yurio, let me read it,” he cajoled. 

Yuri literally choked on his indignation, turning a red-faced, sputtering glare at his mentor. 

“LIKE HELL I WILL! Fuck off, already!” 

And with that, he clutched his phone to his chest and rose abruptly to his feet to storm from the room. (Though Victor spied him reading intently again before he disappeared behind the door frame into the hallway.)  

Victor swayed a bit where he sat, contemplating. He was not as drunk as he could be, but he’d had enough that his thoughts were fuzzy and elusive. 

Fans wrote stories about the objects of their infatuation doing ‘unspeakable things’ with each other? What kinds of things? Surely not  _ those  _ things. Victor picked up his own phone and tapped a query into the search bar. 

“Yuri. Plisetsky. Fan. Story.” Victor haltingly spoke the words aloud as he typed. “Huh? RPF? Ships? What does boating have to do with skating?” he mumbled. He shoved his drink aside to set his elbows on the table and focus on this bizarre new world he’d discovered. 

“Yuri P/Otabek A? Welcome to the Madness. Rated E...Well, if everyone can read it, how unspeakable could it be?” he asked himself. 

And then he started reading. 

And then he kept reading, his eyes growing wider, his mouth falling further and further open with each sentence until he reached a passage that caused him to clap a hand over the gaping thing with a gasp. 

Victor slapped his phone face down on the table in front of him and shook his head to try and dislodge the very animated mental images writhing there. Yuri was entirely too young for him to be imagining him  _ that  _ way...doing  _ those  _ things...with Altin. (Who was marginally older but still seemed forbidden.) 

After he shook off the visuals, though, and before he could allow himself to be ashamed of the quasi-erection nudging the inside of his robe, Victor realized something. 

If fans wrote these stories about Yuri, perhaps they also wrote them about Yuuri. Perhaps they even wrote them about Yuuri/Victor. They were certainly more publicly affectionate than Yuri and Otabek.

Victor snatched up his phone so frantically, he fumbled it and nearly batted it across the table into the floor. He eventually managed to wrangle it back into his eager hands, though; and he only had to backspace six times before he succeeded in typing the desired keywords into the search bar.

Victor gasped as he scrolled, scanning the links that returned. 

There. Were. So. Many. 

Some were obviously innocent, but several were marked E, which Victor now knew to mean Explicit. His heart pounded. He could scarcely breathe as he finally settled on one and started to read. 

“Wow,” he sighed dazedly, several minutes later. Victor stared blankly at nothing for almost as long as it had taken him to read the thing. Then he grinned, hugging his phone momentarily to his chest before staggering very urgently to his feet. 

What he needed to do could only be done in the privacy of his own room.  


	2. Chapter 2

Victor lay in bed the next morning, toying with the gold band on his finger, his brow creased by fervent thought. He’d woken up with his phone in one hand and his dick in the other. Once his mind had finally shaken off its post-binge fog, he’d recognized the page open in his phone’s browser, and the previous night’s events had come back to him all at once.

Victor had consumed a surely unhealthy amount of ‘fanfiction’ the night before and was torn between fascination and deep disturbance. The creativity involved had been staggering, and some of the talent had been humbling. However, the existence of stories depicting him as a character was troubling in itself, and the content of some of the pieces had been even further upsetting.

It seemed a small percentage of their fans fantasized about all manner of misfortune befalling the pair. He supposed it was to sweeten the eventual resolution; though it didn’t make reading it any less unsettling.

Some of the works were short and endearing. Some were offensive in their portrayals, and Victor had shouted at his phone more than once, “I would never do that!” or “How dare you put those words on my Yuuri’s tongue!”

The only constant was that they all had made Victor horny. All of them. Even the ones that were not explicit. In fact, the mental image of him and Yuuri laying on the couch cuddling was enough to make Victor’s nethers stir even now.  

A plan had begun to form in his vodka-soaked brain the night before, and now - sober - he reexamined its merit. He wasn’t much of a writer, though. The language he commanded was movement and music. And once he’d written the thing, how, exactly, would he get Yuuri to read it?

Yuri’s head appeared through a sudden crack in Victor’s bedroom door, interrupting his brooding.

“Still in bed, you lazy bum?” the young man muttered even as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. “I thought we came here to train?”

“It’s Sunday,” Victor objected.

“So? If your old ass is going to make a comeback, you need all the practice you can get. _I’m_ going to the rink...to make sure I kick your decrepit butt on the ice this year,” he added, sliding the door back to a close and stomping down the hall.

“Wait! Yura,” Victor called after him. He heard Yuri’s stomping stop and hopped out of bed, pulling on his robe just as his door slid all the way open again with a bang.

“What. Did. You. Call. Me?” Yuri demanded, now completely awake and practically breathing fire. Victor could swear Yuri’s eye was twitching. Yura was a pet name for Yuri in the fanfic Victor had read, given to him by ‘Beka’, and Victor had found it adorable. Apparently, it was 'a thing’. Victor feigned innocence and ignored the question.

“Say, this fanfiction thing. Do you think Yuuri knows about it?”

Yuri looked on the verge of an aneurysm. “Victor, if you show the fucking Katsudon any stories pairing the two of us together, I swear to GOD…”

Victor smirked. “Oh? You don’t think he’d enjoy them? You seemed to.”

Yuri sputtered, “I have to see the bastard every damned day! Can’t have him getting any ideas,” he mumbled, blushing crimson. “Besides, Yuuko spouts enough nosebleeds for all of us!” he concluded, discreetly giving his own nose a tweak as he turned to leave.

“Yura, wait,” Victor whined. He hadn’t even gotten an answer to his question.

“If you don’t stop calling me that,” Yuri warned between clenched teeth. His back was still turned, but he had stopped walking, and he was shaking, “I will literally kick your geriatric backside.”

Victor sighed. “But do you think he’s seen it?” he persisted. “Do you think he knows this stuff exists?”

“How the hell should I know?! It’s not like we fanboy together! Ask him yourself!” And with that, Yuri stomped to and through the door. But as Victor was chewing his bottom lip, Yuri’s smirking face reappeared in his doorway just long enough to say, “Though, you _have_ seen his poster collection, right?”

Poster collection? Victor had been in Yuuri’s room several times and had never seen any hung on his walls.

Yuri’s snicker faded down the hall, and Victor stared at the spot the young man’s head had just vacated, wondering what kind of posters Yuuri collected and why he kept them hidden.

~~~

_Yuu~ri! Aren’t you going to the rink? In that case, can I borrow your laptop while you’re gone? There’s...something wrong with mine._

As he shuffled into Ice Castle, Yuuri was still puzzling over Victor’s strange behaviour that morning. He hadn’t thought to ask _why_ Victor needed to use his computer until it had been too late to without it seeming awkward, since he’d already given his permission.

“So, did Gramps go back to bed, or what?” Yuri asked, falling back to lean contemptuously against the wall as he watched Yuuri lace up. The Russian looked to have been ready to hit the ice before Yuuri even arrived, though Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.  

“Victor? Um. I don’t think so,” he shrugged as he toed out of his shoes. “But I don’t think he’s coming today, either,” he added glumly. Yuri scoffed.

“Just as well. It’s not like he’s going to be winning any more gold now that I’m in the same division,” he sniffed, examining his nails.

“Oh, yeah? I seem to remember coming pretty close to beating you at the Grand Prix finals last year,” Yuuri needled with a cocky smirk of his own.

He wasn’t as competitive at heart as Yuri was. At least, not until he actually hit the ice. But the younger athlete's unwavering confidence helped inspire some in Yuuri, as well. Though less experienced, Yuri really was an exceptional skater, and the fact that Yuuri had come so close to beating him made him feel far more secure in his own talents.

“Whatever,” Yuri barked. “I’ll kick your ass too, Piglet! Just watch me. _Victor_ isn’t going to get gold, regardless,” he concluded, plopping down to straddle the bench next to Yuuri but turning his back to him and crossing his arms.  

“When he told me to join you here, I thought he would be on his way, but-”

“ _He told you to come bug me?_ ”

The indignation in Yuri’s expression as he twisted to scowl at him seemed incongruous to how closely he was sitting, especially considering he could have been on the ice already; but Yuuri didn’t comment on it.

“Well, he told me to come practice with you,” the elder skater pointed out, tugging on his laces but pausing long enough to lift an eyebrow at the young man. “Bugging you is just a perk,” he added with a wink.

Yuri’s cheeks colored.

“ _Bastard_ ,” he grumbled. “Why’d he have to stay behind and leave me alone with a soggy bowl of fucking katsudon?”

“I dunno. But he asked to use my computer, so I don’t suppose he's coming.”

The comment caused Yuri to swing to face Yuuri with a smirk. “Your computer, huh? Oh, I bet he’s _coming_ , alright,” he muttered under his breath.

Now, Yuuri’s cheeks colored. But it didn’t make sense that Victor would be using it for ‘that’, did it? He could just as easily use his phone.

“Is he using it in your room?” Yuri asked, waking Yuuri to the fact that he was completely neglecting his skates as he pondered. He resumed snugging the laces of the second one and threw Yuri a glance. He hadn’t liked the insinuation in the young man’s voice, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on what Yuri was insinuating.  

“Eh? I guess so,” he stammered, straightening to regard him, his skates finally ready for the ice.  

Yuri snickered and hopped lithely to his feet. “I hope you hid all those posters you have of him,” he said, strolling casually toward doors to the rink. The blood drained from Yuuri’s face.

Of course, they were hidden, but just under his bed. Well, except for the one he’d been ‘using’ the night before.

Oh, God. Now that he thought about it, he might have left it under his pillow. Was it showing? Would Victor decide to sit on his bed?

This was a disaster.

“What?” he sputtered, trying not to envision the catastrophe potentially unfolding back home.  “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. Besides, how did Yuri know about...

“Phichit told me,” Yuri supplied.  

“Y-you’re lying,” Yuuri argued. “He wouldn’t!”  

The younger Yuri stared at him open-mouthed for a moment before breaking into howling laughter.

“So, you _do_ have a fuckton of Victor posters?!” he said, clutching his sides. Apparently, he hadn’t quite believed it, but then Yuuri just _had_ to be defensive about it and remove all doubt. “How lame. Are they all plastered to the wall of your closet over your shrine to him?”

“I do _not_ have-” Yuuri objected hotly, rising to his feet; but Yuri cut him off, still laughing.

“Do you have a favorite one you jerk off to?” he asked, gasping for air; and Yuuri felt his blush rise to the very tips of his ears. “Oh, relax. Whatever he’s doing, he’s probably too tired to go snooping. Dumbass has a hangover.”  

Yuuri was marginally relieved and took a deep breath, convincing his fists to unfurl at his sides.

“Just how much did he drink last night?” Yuuri had seen Victor put away a concerning amount of alcohol before without being overly affected the next morning. Last night’s bender must have been exceptional.

“Not that kind of hangover,” Yuri chuckled, entirely too mischievously for Yuuri’s comfort. “I told him about figure skating fanfiction. I think he stayed up all night reading it. Sicko,” he muttered, turning his face to hide a faint blush.

Though, Yuuri wouldn’t have noticed it anyway. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

“Skating...f-fan... _fanfiction?_ ” Yuuri asked. He felt faint. He could swear the room was starting to spin.  

“Yeah,” Yuri shrugged, completely unaware of Yuuri’s threatening mental breakdown. In fact, he seemed to be trying very hard not to look at Yuuri at all. “Trust me, don’t look it up. It will haunt your nightmares.”

But all of Yuuri’s nightmares were already playing out as they spoke.

It had been years since he’d tried his hand at them, but even after he’d begun to skate professionally, Yuuri had left his own fanworks posted online. No matter how cringe-worthy they were to him now, he had invested quite a lot of time and effort into those stories; and he occasionally got comments on a few, which helped cheer him up when competition got grueling.

They were shameless self-inserts. _Blatant_ self-inserts. He’d used his own first name, for God’s sake, back when no one really knew it. And all of them had had the same romantic interest.

Yuuri sat back down and started tearing at the laces he’d just perfected.

What if Victor had read his fic? What if he figured out that _Yuuri_ was really golddigger94? It wasn’t likely. His fics weren’t very popular and were buried so deep in a niche in the fandom they might as well be invisible, but _what if_....

Yuuri had tried _so hard_ to separate his attraction from his and Victor’s relationship, not wanting things to turn awkward. If the Russian put two and two together, though, he’d suspect Yuuri of lusting after him every time they touched. (Which definitely happened, but Yuuri took pride in his ability to pretend otherwise.)

If Victor knew, surely he would be disgusted. If Victor knew...

_...he’d leave._

“Wait,” Yuri murmured, lost in thought, paying no mind to Yuuri frantically shedding his skates to struggle back into his shoes. “ _The bastard called me Yura_. That means..."

Yuuri barely heard him at this point. He was on his feet, bag in hand.

“That dirty old pervert!” Yuri growled with a stomp of his foot. “I’m sixteen, for fuck’s sake! He’s what? Fifty? I mean, it’d be different if it was you...”

Yuri turned a shy, red-cheeked look to Yuuri only to find he was no longer there.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he demanded, having finally noticed Yuuri’s mad rush to escape the rink. “I thought we were going to practice!”

“Ah. Gomen!” Yuuri tossed over his shoulder as he applied the other to the door to throw himself through it. “I forgot something at home. We’ll practice later.”

And with that, Yuuri was sprinting back toward the hot spring, leaving a fuming Russian teenager behind. He barely heard the _‘Baka!’_ Yuri screamed after him or the sound of skate guards being thrown violently at the door he’d just passed through.   


	3. Chapter 3

“Yuuri-chan! I thought you went to Ice Castle.”

Victor’s fingers froze over the keyboard of Yuuri’s laptop and his breath froze in his chest hearing Hiroko’s voice carry through the thin walls. Why was Yuuri back so soon?

Victor wasn’t even close to being finished. He’d naively thought that typing out his story would be a simple endeavour, but writing was much harder and more time consuming than he’d imagined, and he wanted it to be absolutely perfect before Yuuri saw it.

“I did go. I just...forgot something. In my room.”

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Victor scanned the document he’d been slaving over. He could hear Yuuri’s footsteps coming down the hall. He didn’t even have time to save his work, and he wasn’t willing to scrap it. But he had to do something. Yuuri was coming. Quickly.

For lack of any better ideas, Victor yanked the charger from the laptop, slapped it closed, and snatched it up, scuttling over to Yuuri’s closet. He slid the door to an almost close just as Yuuri burst into his room.

 _Shit_.

Why was Yuuri back? Would he need something from his closet? What would Victor say if he was found? _Whose bright idea was this, anyway?!_ Victor hugged the warm device to his chest, watching Yuuri through the crack in the closet door.

The other man appeared breathless and a little frazzled but seemed to relax when he scanned the room to find it empty. Yuuri shuffled over and examined the empty space on his desk where his laptop usually sat, picking up the abandoned charger end with a sigh.

“I guess he took it back to his room,” he muttered to himself. Then he cast a look to his bed, glancing over both shoulders before falling to his knees and then flat of his stomach to reach beneath it.

While he burrowed, Makkachin trotted in to greet her second-favorite human, licking the bare toes that jutted helplessly from under the bed. Yuuri emerged, giggling, with a stack of posters in one hand.

“Makkachin! It looks like my secret’s still safe, girl,” he grinned as he scratched her behind the ears. “I wonder what your dad would think if he found these, huh?”

As Victor struggled to see what was printed on the stack of papers Yuuri admired, Makkachin’s ears perked at the mention of ‘dad’, and she began looking for Victor, snuffling at the chair at the desk before her nose fell to the floor to follow the trail of his flight to the closet.

_Oh, no._

“Shoo,” Victor whispered as her nose pressed itself to the crack in the door to give the air inside a solid huff. “Makkababy, _shoo_.”

She completely ignored Victor’s tiny pleas that she fuck off and instead fell to her chest with her wagging tail in the air, inviting Daddy to play.

“Makkachin?” Yuuri inquired, setting the posters aside and rising to his feet to investigate. Makkachin bounced and gave a small _woof_ , her attention still glued to the closet door, and Victor saw his life flash before his eyes.

This was the end. Yuuri was going to find him, and Victor was going to die of embarrassment trying to explain how he’d gotten there and what he was doing. Just when he felt his dread itself would undoubtedly prove terminal, Makkachin seemed to tire of Victor’s reticence, and she turned back to ask Yuuri to play with her instead. She bounded toward him, knocking him back onto his bed where she pinned him and polished his cheek with her tongue.

The icy grip of fear released Victor’s heart, and the sound of Yuuri’s laughter made it flutter; as did the way he hugged Makkachin tight before gently moving her to the side so he could sit up. The fact that he loved her almost as much as Victor did endeared Yuuri to him even further, and Victor sighed dreamily watching them together.

Yuuri sighed, too, but it was not nearly so happy.

“He might not have found the posters,” Yuuri told Makkachin gloomily, “but who knows if he found out about golddigger94?”

Victor had no idea what that meant, but Yuuri seemed especially worried about it. He flopped back onto his bed and heaved another sigh when his fingers seem to find something hiding in the mess of his bedsheets. Yuuri fished whatever it was from beneath his pillow.

It looked to be a poster insert, like the centerfolds in naughty magazines, and it fell open as Yuuri held it up by the top corner.

_Oh._

_God_.

_Yuuri kept porn under his pillow._

Victor squirmed, trying to suppress the urge to reach down to quiet his suddenly restless nether region as his imagination became untethered. He squeezed the laptop tighter instead, almost whimpering at the expression on Yuuri’s face as he examined the poster.

Was it some busty blonde, Victor wondered? Or a lithe, dark-haired twink with come-hither eyes? What would Victor do if it was a burly leather bear astride a motorbike in nothing but assless chaps? He could manage lingerie and come-hither eyes, but his body stubbornly refused to sprout hair anywhere but the top of his head and between his legs.  

The next sigh that escaped Yuuri’s lips disabled Victor’s brain and made him tingle to the tips of his toes, especially since those lips were twisted into a smirk Victor hadn’t seen since that night of drunken debauchery after the banquet. He stopped caring who graced the poster and concentrated on the lust whoever-it-was inspired in Yuuri.

Unlike Victor, Yuuri seemed not at all hesitant to reach down and rub at the bulge forming in his sweatpants. He bit his lip and glanced at the door, clearly debating. Finally, he crept to his feet, checking that the hallway was empty before easing his door closed, locking it, and returning to his bed.

Victor was certain he was sweating. Even if the closet hadn’t been so close and stifling, he would still have been on fire. Guilt and arousal consumed him as if he were kindling. He felt he should look away, but he could not; not even if his life depended on it.

Yuuri considered the poster again, giving it a long, lecherous look as he reached unhurriedly to push down the front of his pants, causing Victor to mutter a number of curses under his breath in Russian. Laying eyes once again - at long last - on Yuuri’s naked, _erect_ cock was literally a dream come true. He'd glimpsed it several times in the hot spring, but not in its full glory like it was here.

It was just as beautiful as Victor remembered. _Perfect._  Large enough to be satisfying without being intimidating. Victor couldn’t hold back the whimper that rose in him as Yuuri wrapped his fingers around it. He bit his lips to prevent another from escaping, though he risked drowning by doing so. Victor's mouth watered at the sight of the head of Yuuri’s cock playing peek-a-boo from his foreskin as Yuuri stroked his shaft in a firm grip. Victor could veritably taste the precome that made it glisten.

The stirring in Victor’s pants was now a throbbing ache. It was no longer a matter of choice, really. If Victor did not touch himself, he would surely explode; and not in the pleasant way he longed for. Quietly as he could, Victor shifted the laptop to one arm, freeing the other to slip inside the band of his pants. He was so glad he’d decided not to put on underwear that morning.

Victor was longer than Yuuri though more slender, but he still kept pace with him stroke for stroke. As delicious as it was watching Yuuri fisting his own cock, his hips periodically bucking, what really sent Victor to new heights of arousal was the expression on the Japanese man’s face.

Yuuri’s eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep them open to lock his gaze on the poster he still held. His lips fell open, begging to be kissed, and Victor ached to press his own to them. Victor's mouth had fallen open, too. He thought he might be drooling but he couldn’t focus on it. He could hear Yuuri panting, gasping, and Victor knew he was, as well - and just as loudly - but he could not contain it.

Yuuri didn’t notice, but Makkachin did. She wasn’t paying Yuuri much mind. It wasn’t as if Victor had never masturbated in front of her. But she seemed to grow concerned about the noises coming from the little room Daddy had shut himself away in. She padded over to it with a whine, and Victor felt he might weep. He was _so_ close. He wanted to wait, though, for Yuuri to finish. No doubt, it would be gorgeous. If only Makkachin would stop scratching at the door frame…

Thankfully, Yuuri was too preoccupied to care about Makkachin’s preoccupation. _Finally_ , he shuddered, giving a strangled little moan before sweeping his fingers up to squeeze his foreskin closed over the tip of his cock. Victor watched it pump and twitch and felt his own answer in kind. He borrowed Yuuri’s technique, trying to catch his release in his foreskin, but he came so hard, he felt a steady trickle escape to run thickly down the backs of his knuckles.

Victor’s legs felt like jelly, and he sank slowly to his knees, the end of his dick held tightly in his hand as he had nowhere to dispose of his mess. His eyes fell to the wet, black nose wedged firmly into the crack of the closet door, widening it ever so slightly.

This girl was nothing but trouble today.

Victor’s heart still pounded, but he wrangled his breathing to a quieter rhythm, peering through the crack in the door to see if Makkachin had given him away.

Yuuri seemed not to even realize she was still there. He set the poster reverently aside and shimmied off the bed to reach for a tissue from the box on the desk. Then, having tidied, he gently refolded and carefully stowed his inspiration between his mattress and box springs. Yuuri straightened his crumpled clothes and ran a hand through his hair before unlocking his door and passing through it with a smile and a spring in his step.

Victor heaved a relieved sigh and slumped forward to lean against the blessed door. He remained kneeling on the floor of the closet for a few more minutes until he could be sure Yuuri was well and truly gone, then he set down the laptop, needing an unoccupied hand to help him scramble to his feet without releasing any of the mess he still held in his other. Cautiously, he slid open the closet door and peeked out.

Makkachin sat up, cocking her head at him, her tail wagging beneath her.

“Thanks ever so much for your help, princess,” he smirked, shaking his head at her fondly. Now that the danger had passed, he couldn’t stay aggravated at that sweet face.

Victor tiptoed across the room with his hand still down his pants to ease the door to Yuuri’s bedroom back to a close before plucking several tissues and cleaning himself, following up with a pump of hand sanitizer from the bottle that sat on the shelf by the desk. Despite that he felt rather guilty about his secret voyeurism, Victor was otherwise in a pretty smashing mood. He’d wanked to a mental image of Yuuri several times over the past year and a half or so, but wanking to the real thing had been so much better. _God_ , but he couldn’t wait until he could do more with the real thing, as well. He just needed to find a way to make Yuuri see him as more than just a coach and a colleague.

The first step might be to jog Yuuri’s memory of the night of the banquet. Or rather, to fill in the gaps not captured on camera. Victor should retrieve the laptop and finish what he’d come here to do, but his feet wouldn’t move in that direction. His eyes went to Yuuri’s mattress, and he wrung his hands, conflicted.

He’d already violated Yuuri’s privacy unforgivably. That, however, had been accidental and unavoidable. If he spied on what Yuuri had hidden under his bed, it would be an intentional trespass.

Though he felt like the worst kind of snoop, Victor lost the battle with his curiosity. He needed to see what he was up against. Victor bent and gingerly fished The Poster from its hiding spot. It had clearly been in Yuuri’s possession for some time, though it was just as clearly well cared for. The creases were limp and the edges worn, but it was otherwise in remarkably good shape to have been stuffed under pillows and between mattresses. Victor treated it as respectfully as Yuuri had. With shaking hands, he laid it down on the desk and ever so gently unfolded it.

Victor was almost afraid the sound of his mind being blown was audible to all of Hasetsu. It was absolutely deafening to him. It left his ears ringing, and the force of it knocked him to a seat in the desk chair as his knees failed him completely.

Victor stared, open-mouthed, at his own image smiling back at him from the magazine insert on Yuuri’s desk. It was an older photo but one he was fond of; one of the first to be taken after he had cut his long hair.

His shock gradually bled away to make room for a flowering warmth that radiated from his chest to fill his entire being with a buzzing happiness. He could feel himself grinning goofily.

 _It was him!_ It wasn't some overboobed bimbo or barely legal boytoy. Victor had just jerked off to Yuuri jerking off _to him_. He was Yuuri’s fantasy, just as Yuuri was his.

Too elated to be tortured over his snooping any longer, Victor scrambled under Yuuri’s bed to pull out the stack of posters kept there.

There were dozens. Victor in a crown of blue roses. Victor winking for the cameras as he arrived at the Yoyogi National Gymnasium. Victor in his Stammi Vicino costume from his last competition. There were old posters and new. There were even magazine clippings from recent photoshoots. Most endearingly, there was also what appeared to be every photo ever taken of Victor and Yuuri together.

Victor wanted to spread them all out on Yuuri’s bed and wallow in them. He did not. He carefully restacked them and returned them to their hiding spot; the hallowed insert, too. Then, Victor strode to the closet with a determined step. He had a story to write, and he was feeling suddenly inspired. He settled in at the desk, opened the laptop, and cracked his knuckles, ready to bang away at it, when he recalled the other thing Yuuri had been concerned about Victor discovering.

He only debated for a moment. With a frown, Victor pecked golddigger94 into the search bar...

...and then he almost literally fell out of his chair.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	4. Chapter 4

Victor had intended to ‘accidentally’ leave his completed story open on Yuuri’s computer for him to find when he got home. But this...this changed everything. Of all the revelations that had rocked him over the past twenty-four hours, golddigger94 had been the most shocking, and Victor saved and emailed his work to himself in order to retreat to his room to re-evaluate.

Well, among other things.

“‘Yuuri took Victor’s turgid member into his mouth’,” Victor read aloud before rolling around on his bed in a (mostly) silent fit of glee. Yuuri’s writing was terrible in the most fantastic way. The naivete was almost painfully endearing. The stories were old and clearly penned before he’d had any practical experience with sex.

Victor had expected to feel more awkward while reading them; but he kept envisioning a gawky teenaged Yuuri, gazing up at his myriad posters, writing cringe-inducing smut about his idol, and the image melted Victor’s heart. Because Yuuri had done so while he trained to be worthy of the same ice as Victor. And he had succeeded in that goal, finally. _Victor_ had had a hand in who and what Yuuri was, and Victor adored who and what Yuuri was; and so he could not begrudge the younger man’s clumsy attempts at fiction, despite their subject matter.

Victor knew Yuuri had had limited real life experience with said subject matter since. He could tell the night of the banquet that the man hadn’t known many lovers, even taking the alcohol into account. But he could also tell that Yuuri had an innate talent, an instinct. It was something not everyone possessed, and it was definitely something Victor could work with. In fact, he could think of nothing he would enjoy more than being Yuuri’s coach in this sport, as well.

Golddigger94’s body of work was relatively small, and Victor finished the lot in short order. Then he pulled out his own laptop and opened the document he’d started earlier...

~~~

“Yura!” Victor called when he heard the young man’s characteristic footfall in the hallway. Victor wasn’t even sure what he was going to ask Yuri, only that he felt nervous and lost. He paced his room, pages in hand, and chewed his thumbnail while he waited. The dubious quality of Golddigger’s prose made him feel marginally better about his own, but he still wanted to impress Yuuri.

“Victor, so help me…”

Victor looked up to find a small, blond package of pure rage glaring at him from his bedroom doorway. He quickly hid his manuscript behind his back.

“I need your help.”

The young man raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed, turning to go.

“Please? I’ve written something. A fanfiction. But...I don’t know what to do now.”

“And you think _I_ know? What do I look like?”

Victor took in the young man’s pink cheeks and suddenly elusive gaze and decided he valued his life and so declined to answer the question.

“Hey, you’re the one who showed me this stuff,” he argued instead. “You have to know more than I do.”

“Why the hell did you write something?” Yuri sneered, stomping over to him. “Let me see.” Victor glanced from Yuri’s outstretched hand to his demanding expression and back again, conflicted.

“You wanted to know what to do next!” Yuri groused. “This is what they do. They write it and then someone does a ‘beta’ to make sure that things are spelled right and it’s not shit.”

“But,” Victor hedged, “it’s…rated E.”

“Bwaha! You jumped feet first into smut!?” It took a moment for the young man to contain his hilarity. “You dirty old coot.”

“I-is that bad?” Victor fretted. Maybe he should have started with something less ambitious? “Nevermind. You’re only sixteen, anyway,” he muttered, turning his back on the young man to dismiss him. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Whatever! Do I look like a child?”

Victor glanced over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Yuri, feeling the answer to that question was even more dangerous than the last.

“Fuck you, Victor! I know enough,” Yuri insisted, dancing forward to snatch the pages out of Victor’s hand. The man started to object, but Yuri glared at him until he closed his mouth with a snap.

“Pfft. You printed it out? You really are old,” Yuri muttered, wandering a few steps away as he turned his attention to Victor’s story.

Victor resumed chewing his thumb nail while Yuri read. He felt this was all somehow surely illegal. Or at the very least immoral. Besides, Yuri’s scowl deepened steadily with each line he scanned until Victor began to worry there might be some lasting harm to his countenance. Something seemed to be building in the young man, and he held the pages he read further and further from him, his mouth open and twisted but refusing to form words. 

“I DON’T WANT TO READ ABOUT YOU AND THE KATSUDON, YOU SICKO!” he finally burst in Victor’s direction, showering the man in indignant spittle. Victor glanced nervously to his still-open bedroom door.  

“What are you talking about?” he stammered with an awkward shrug, completely failing at the unruffled nonchalance he was attempting to convey. “This is a story about _Peter and Steve_.”

“Those aren't even skaters’ names!”

“Who says it's about skaters?” Victor argued, his nose rising in apparent affront to Yuri’s presumption.

"THE NIGHT AFTER THE GRAND PRIX FINAL?”

“Oh. Still. Peter and Steve, see?” Victor stepped forward to point out the names printed on the pages Yuri held in a deathgrip.

“'THE SILVER-HAIRED ELDER OF THE TWO STEADIED THE INEBRIATED JAPANESE MAN AS HE RUMMAGED IN HIS POCKET FOR HIS KEY CARD’?” Yuri read aloud. _Very_ aloud. Victor was torn between wanting to rush over and slam his door to a close and wanting to clap a hand over the young man’s mouth. “Fuck sake, Victor! I’m not an idiot!”

“Fine, then give it back,” Victor said, holding out his hand.

Yuri yanked the pages out of easy reach and turned to continue reading them, stooping over the print-out like a hungry vulture guarding a fresh corpse. Victor’s thumb nail found its way back between Victor’s teeth. He was definitely going to need a manicure after this.

“This actually happened, didn’t it?” Yuri said after a moment. The pages he held were being crushed beneath his slowly intensifying grasp. He straightened and turned to Victor with a scowl. “THIS is why you came running after the fucking katsudon and left me behind.”

Victor didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away. They both knew it was true. There was no point denying it, though Victor didn’t especially feel the need to justify himself, either. The silence stretched, and when Yuri realized he wasn’t getting an answer, he threw the wadded pages at Victor and turned to stomp off.

“Fuck both of you,” he muttered with surprising bitterness. Victor frowned after him.

“Yuri, wait…” he said softly. Perhaps it was the novelty of hearing his proper name that made Yuri pause. He didn’t turn to Victor, though. He stood with his back to him, waiting for the man to say his piece.

“Is it okay?” Victor ventured finally. “Can I post it?”

“I hate you,” was all Yuri said, slamming Victor’s door behind him as he left.


	5. Chapter 5

“Just use your real names.”

Victor hadn’t even heard his door open. He’d thought the writing would be the hardest part, but he’d spent the ten minutes since Yuri had stormed off just trying to think of a pen name. He had finally settled on IceBlingDaddy5 when Yuri reappeared. Victor was surprised to see him, considering the huff in which he’d left, and he sat up to give the young man his full attention.

Yuri leaned sulkily against Victor’s doorframe with his arms crossed and his eyes to the floor.

“Look,” he said in a mumble, sounding as if someone held him at gunpoint, “it might seem backwards, but changing the names is the worst thing you can do. If you use fake names for characters that are obviously you and the katsudon, readers will put two and two together and figure out it’s for real. But if you use your real names, it will just look like a ridiculous story some brainless fan thought up and no one will know...except for, like, _EVERYONE who was at the banquet_ ,” he grumbled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Yuri’s aggravation seemed almost spent, though. Now, he just sounded resigned. 

“But it’s not like you dumbasses are subtle about being all up on each other’s nuts, anyway. Hell, you’re wearing engagement rings,” Yuri muttered. “I mean, you kissed him on live television, for fuck’s sake. Everyone knows.

"Well," he amended, "I'm not sure the katsudon does. But that's the whole point of this stupid thing, isn't it?”

Victor considered Yuri thoughtfully as the young man heaved a sigh and gave the rug at his toe a disconsolate kick. He hadn’t yet met Victor’s eye, and he didn’t wait for the man’s response.

“Everyone who's _not_ an idiot piglet knows already. Just use your real names,” he concluded, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning to slouch off.

“ _Yuri_.”

The young man winced at the sound of his name but nonetheless stopped and raised a bashful look. Victor gave him a sincerely grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Yuri shrugged, but his attitude was hollow. “I still hate you.”

~~~

Yuuri retreated to his room finally, blasting out a relieved sigh when he found his laptop in its usual spot and Victor nowhere to be seen. The man had been scarce; which would have made Yuuri downhearted on any other day, but on this one, it was fortunate. Yuuri needed to see to a few things before he could bring himself to face Victor again.

The possibility of his mentor finding his fanfics had so distracted Yuuri during practice, he felt it almost would have been better if he hadn't gone at all. Then after he and Yuri had gotten back from the rink, Mari intercepted him before he could slip off to his room, needing his help in pulling some things from storage.

Yuuri had tried to work quickly; but his arms had been stacked high with an assortment of cardboard boxes when Yuri stomped in, loudly called him an idiot, threw a cushion at him (causing Yuuri to drop half the boxes), and promptly disappeared again. The resulting mess had taken longer to clean up than he’d have liked.

He still had no idea what he’d done to be assaulted, but there really was no telling with Yuri, and the Japanese man couldn’t worry about it at the moment, besides. He was on a mission.

Though he felt it rude to be so nosy, Yuuri couldn’t help checking his browser history first. There was nothing to see, but it didn't bring him much relief. Hopefully, Victor really had just been watching porn.

Yuuri’s next stop was to the archive where he had posted his fanfiction. He felt a small pang of grief, but he knew what he had to do.

Yuuri had to delete his fics. All of them. He couldn't save them, either; not if he was going to be lending Victor his laptop from time to time. No. He had to scrub them from the face of the internet and from any device Victor was likely to ever touch. It was for the best. He'd just get it over with quickly, he thought. Like ripping off a bandaid. 

The archive, however, was not being cooperative.

“Incorrect password?”

Yuuri groaned and raked a hand down his face, wracking his brain. When he created the account, he had just moved to Detroit to train with Celestino. In fact, he’d started writing precisely because he felt so lonely; before Phichit had coaxed him out of his shell. After they became better friends, the other boy had found his stories on accident but had been supportive, encouraging Yuuri to post them online.

“HamsterUncle? No,” he muttered, giving the resulting error message a dirty look. “ChasingSilver123? Oh, come on.”

Yuuri tried everything he could think of, but the stubborn red letters continued to glare at him distrustfully. He sighed, admitted defeat, and requested his password be sent to him. When he opened his inbox, however, he found he had received more than one email from SkateFic.net.

_Someone had left him a review._

Yuuri’s stomach did the same familiar little flip it always did when he received a comment, except this one was bittersweet since he knew it would be his last. He opened the email with stoic resignation.

“ _I really enjoyed your ‘fics’!_ ” said IceBlingDaddy5.

Yuuri wasn’t surprised. Even after he had started to gain some popularity, it was still Victor’s fans who commented most often. His stories were written so that the reader could easily put themselves in his character’s shoes, getting to vicariously meet their idol. Even if they were able to make the leap and connect the Yuuri in the stories to Katsuki himself, there wasn’t much in them for his fans. They were mostly just about how wonderful Victor was.

“ _I’ve just read them all,_ ” IceBlingDaddy5 went on to say, “ _and I can honestly tell you that if Victor saw them, he would feel honored that you think so highly of him and portray him so well. It seems as though you've been a fan for a long time! I hope I don’t sound rude, but I’d actually like to chat with you about a story I’ve just written. I think you might be able to provide some valuable insight. Once again, well done! I hope to hear from you soon._ ”

Yuuri sighed. He was tempted to simply delete the email without responding, but this was his very last review, after all. He might as well milk it for all it was worth.

“ _Thank you so much for reading!_ ” Yuuri typed back. “ _Though, I’m sorry to say I was just logging in to remove all of my fics from SkateFic.net. I guess you caught them just in time. That doesn’t mean I can’t read yours, I suppose. Were you wanting a beta? You should know, I haven’t written or beta’d in years. I fell out of fandom a while ago to focus on work. You’d probably be better off finding someone more active, but if you’re still interested, I’ll give it a look. Thank you again for the kind words! I understand if you don't respond._ ”

Yuuri sighed as he hit send, expecting to never again hear from his newest and final reader. Then he steeled himself, following the link to reset his password. He gave the first story in the list a nostalgic glance, screwed up his courage, and his cursor was making its way determinedly toward the delete button when his inbox dinged at him.

Had IceBlingDaddy answered already? Grateful for an excuse to delay the purge, Yuuri clicked back over to his email.

“ _I’m so sad to hear that! I wish you’d change your mind, but I’ve saved them all, just in case_ ,” IceBling told him. Yuuri felt a warm fuzzy knowing his stories would live on _somewhere_. “ _I had someone 'beta' my story already. (Well, kind of.) I was just wondering what your thoughts were on it. Specifically, if I’ve written Yuuri well. I have a feeling you’d know better than I do,_ ” his reader said, making Yuuri’s heart trip in his chest. But there was no way they could have figured out his true identity...

_Was there?_

With mounting trepidation, Yuuri followed the link provided and began to read.


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri stared at his screen, his mouth agape. He was paralyzed by shock save for the finger resting on the scroll wheel of his mouse, and even that refused to mind him. Despite Yuuri’s sincere wish to never see a single sentence of the one shot ever again, the rogue finger took him to the top of it to read through the damned thing for a third time.

It was...hideous.

Revolting.

Nightmarish.

 _It was really well written._ Yuuri felt his erection strain against the inside of his boxer briefs.

**_The silver-haired elder of the two steadied the inebriated Japanese man as the latter rummaged in his pocket for his key card. Victor had only intended to see Yuuri safely to his room, but once the door finally opened, Yuuri tugged Victor inside with him and slammed the door behind them. It happened quickly, and Victor was drunk enough himself that he couldn’t even begin to prevent it._ **

**_Not that he particularly wanted to._ **

**_“You’re gorgeous, did you know that?” Yuuri asked him, his expression anything but innocent as he appraised the other man’s features. He was pinning Victor against the door with the entire length of his body, and the Russian couldn’t help but notice how pleasing the shape of it was. Victor swallowed nervously as Yuuri licked his lips._ **

**_“I'll bet you taste as good as you look.”_ **

No.

No, no, no, no, NO.

Yuuri couldn’t afford for so much of his blood to be below his belt. He needed his brain to function properly, damn it. He _needed_ to work out a reason why this couldn’t be what he thought it was.

_Please, God, let it not be what he thought it was._

It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny the obvious, though. So few people knew about his drunken antics in Sochi. This almost had to have been written by a skater; one who had made it to the Grand Prix Finals that year.

The list of suspects narrowed further when he considered the author’s comments: ‘ _I can honestly tell you that if Victor saw them, he would feel honored that you think so highly of him.’_

And his handle: _IceBlingDaddy5_

AND THE TIMING: “ _Yuu~ri! Aren’t you going to the rink? In that case, can I borrow your laptop while you’re gone? There’s...something wrong with mine.”_

**. . .**

_Victor_.

Victor had read Yuuri’s fics.

_‘I’ve saved them all, just in case.’_

Yuuri shuddered.

_Victor had written a PWP about them!_

_And posted it on SkateFic.net!_

_AND. SENT. HIM. THE. LINK._

Yuuri felt as if he were trapped in some surreal and hostile alternative reality. He wanted to hide under his covers forever and ever and never come out again. He wanted to disappear, to curl into a ball and just die of embarrassment. He wanted to scream and pull out his hair.

But he could do none of those things. All he could seem to do was stare in abject horror at the well-penned and ridiculously hawt piece of smut!fic open on his computer screen.

 _Of course_ , Victor was better than him even in this. (Though arguably, he’d written Yuuri wildly out of character.)

**_Victor was overwhelmed by the passion that smoldered in Yuuri’s eyes as the man pushed Victor back onto the bed and mounted him. Yuuri reached back to take Victor’s rock-hard length in hand; and Victor gazed up at Yuuri in helpless worship, a willing slave to this wanton god of desire who lowered himself slowly but steadily to sheathe Victor’s aching erection with his scorching, clenching divinity. Yuuri threw back his head and moaned alou-_ **

Yuuri jumped as his inbox dinged at him, waking him from his lust-induced haze and breaking the spell that froze his limbs. It was probably ‘IceDaddy’ again, but Yuuri couldn't bear to check. Finally able, he slammed his laptop to a close and leapt to his feet to back away from it, toppling his chair in the process. Before he could decide whether or not to throw the offending device out the window, the phone sitting next to it on the desktop buzzed and lit with a text alert.

_‘Yuuri?’_

It was from Victor. _Oh, god._ The computer was neutralized but the horror still chased him.

It buzzed again.

_‘I heard a crash. Are you alright?’_

Yuuri momentarily considered throwing himself out of the window instead.

*buzz*

_‘Yuuri, if you don’t answer me, I going to come see if you’re okay.’_

That was the final straw. Yuuri gave a small shriek and scrambled for his door.

~~~

Victor stepped out of his room just in time to spot Yuuri at the end of the hallway. The two froze as they locked eyes, but their mutually startled gaze lasted for only a moment before Yuuri turned and bolted. Victor gave chase.

“Yuuri, wait!”

“No!”

Four bare feet slid clumsily on freshly polished wooden floors as Yuuri rounded the corner into the lobby with Victor closing fast.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” he called.

“ _No_ ,” Yuuri repeated adamantly, recovering quickly from a spill to the floor as he attempted a sudden ninety degree turn. He launched himself in the direction of the exit when his churning feet finally found traction again.

Victor managed to remain upright by skidding to a stop as he approached the site of Yuuri’s tumble, his arms windmilling; but caution cost him speed, and Yuuri was already disappearing through the front gate when Victor finally burst through the doors the other man had left swinging open behind him.

“Yuuu~rii!” Victor keened as he cleared the gate soon after, setting off in pursuit of the fleeing man.

“Noooooo!”

Yuuri didn’t slow as he howled. If anything, he sped up, and Victor groaned inwardly. Yuri had been right. He did need a little extra work before he was ready for the ice. Yuuri was definitely in better shape than Victor was at the moment. A year off and all those bowls of katsudon hadn’t done him any favors. How far were they going to run? It felt like miles already. The pavement was not being kind to his bare feet.

Blisters and bloody soles would be well worth it, though, if Victor could finally claim his pork cutlet bowl fatale. He screwed up his determination. Victor wasn’t about to give up on Yuuri so easily. He may have gambled, but he hadn’t lost just yet.

When Yuuri hit the stairs to Hasetsu Castle, though, Victor very nearly despaired. He was almost out of steam. But Yuuri was flagging, too, and Victor stumbled to a stop at the foot of the steps just in time to see Yuuri catch his toe on the top one. It pitched him forward, and Victor’s stomach somersaulted with him; but before the Russian could panic, he heard a pitiful little groan carry down the stair.

Thankfully, Yuuri didn’t appear to be seriously hurt. Winded as he was by fright and flight, Victor cupped a hand to either side of his mouth to call up to him.

“Yuuri, it’s okay! I SHIP US, TOO!”

“Leave me alone,” Yuuri moaned as he reached for his fallen glasses. He shoved them back onto his face before attempting to escape on hands and knees. At least he wasn’t running anymore. Victor heaved a sigh and trudged up the stairs toward him.

By the time he cleared them, he found Yuuri had scrambled his way up onto a bench where he slumped with his back turned. He appeared to be crying, and Victor felt his breath hitch with sympathetic tears in response.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” he cooed as he limped over to take a seat beside him, “why are you so sad?” Unsure what else to do, Victor reached out to pat him, but Yuuri refused to be touched.

“I’m not sad. I’m hurt!” he said, giving himself the hug he denied Victor.

Did he mean from his fall?

“That was mean, Victor,” Yuuri sniffled, though he would not turn to see the look of bafflement and remorse on Victor’s face. “I can’t help it if I think you’re amazing! And I can’t help it that I’m…”

Whatever he was, it was apparently difficult to voice.

“... _attracted_ to you,” he eventually blurted. Before Victor could respond to the proclamation, Yuuri turned a tear-stained scowl at him, finally angry enough to face him, it seemed. “I don’t let it affect our working relationship, do I? At least,” he said, a rosy blush spreading across his cheeks to contrast with the blue of his frames, “I try really hard not to. You didn’t have to mock me.”

Victor simply blinked at him for a moment, at a loss.

“ _Mock you?_ ”

“You went to an awful lot of trouble to make fun of me,” Yuuri scolded as if refusing to be duped by Victor’s doe-eyed display. “You could have just laughed at me, you know. I would have understood if you teased me a little. I know that writing fanfiction is weird and probably creeped you out. _But_ ,” he sputtered, his indignation overpowering his embarrassment, “you didn’t have to make up some ridiculous story and post it online!”

 _So_ that _was why he’d run._ He thought Victor was having a joke at his expense. Victor couldn’t hold back a fond, incredulous little laugh; though it hurt him to think that scenario was more plausible to Yuuri than the fact that Victor genuinely returned his attraction. When would he stop selling himself short?

“But, Yuuri,” Victor began with a sad shake of his head, “don’t you understand? I didn’t make up anything.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at him in skepticism, but Victor’s gaze remained so steadfast and open that Yuuri’s doubt appeared to falter.

“I just wrote down what happened,” Victor explained carefully, nudging Yuuri over the edge into revelation.  

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide. “You mean…?”

Victor nodded, a smile slipping across his face. It was such a relief for the truth to finally be out in the open and for this misunderstanding to be sorted. Maybe now they could finally get on with the making up part. Victor’s lips could practically taste Yuuri’s already.

Yuuri, however, still seemed pretty far removed from the happy relief Victor was feeling.

“Oh. My. God,” he murmured with a horrified shudder. “I am _so_ sorry.”

“ _Why?_ ” Victor chuckled. He most certainly wasn’t sorry about any of it.  

“You’ve been such a good sport about it.”

“A good sport…” Victor repeated. But Yuuri supplied no clarification, so he added, “about…?”

“Training me,” said Yuuri, as if it should be obvious. “Even though I…Even though you know that I…”

Victor’s perplexed scowl deepened further with every stumble of Yuuri’s tongue.

“Yuuri,” said Victor, working it out aloud, “you think that I... _tolerate_ your attraction?”

Yuuri blushed so fiercely, Victor could practically feel the heat coming off of him. He shrugged, his head hung bashfully, and nodded.

Victor could no longer keep his hands to himself. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri whether he wanted him to or not and pulled him close, smooshing their faces together.

“Oh, Yuuri,” he sighed through a grin. He trailed the tip of his nose across Yuuri’s flaming cheek to speak softly in his ear, causing him to tremble in Victor's embrace. “I have been trying to get back into your pants for over a year now,” he confessed in a sultry whisper. “I really didn’t think I was being subtle about it, either.”

To Victor’s chagrin, Yuuri pulled away, but only to give him a shocked look. Victor refused to relinquish him entirely, though, and his arms remained stubbornly wreathed around Yuuri’s neck.  

“Eh? B-but…you’re so _cool_ ,” Yuuri argued shyly, seeming to shrink under Victor’s ardent attention. “And handsome. And talented.”

Victor gave a silvery laugh at Yuuri’s flustered appraisal.

“And you’re all of those things, too,” Victor told him flatly, pressing his forehead to Yuuri’s to punctuate the statement. “So why wouldn't I be smitten? Though," he conceded with a wink, "I might be _slightly_ cooler.” 

Yuuri appeared flattered, but he still clearly struggled to accept the praise. It was time they worked on that fickle confidence of his.

“But I don’t like you because you’re cool,” Victor confided, drawing back to take Yuuri’s hands in his own and squeeze them tightly. “I like you because you are earnest. And persistent.”

Those compliments were more modest, were something Yuuri could more easily accept. He relaxed a bit, though he still gazed at Victor in silent wonder.

“Yuuri,” said Victor with a fond shake of his head, “there is so much about you to love. For one thing, you’re fearless. No, you are,” he insisted when Yuuri tried to pull away. “When you manage to get out of your head and stop worrying about everyone else - when you surrender to the ice - you’re courageous. I’m confident, but you’re bold. You don’t hesitate to attempt things I’d never dare. And it doesn’t matter if you fail, if the execution isn’t flawless. It’s the fact that you’re brave enough to try that I admire.”

He reached out to rake the hair back from Yuuri’s face as if to remind him of the brazenness of his Eros.

“My Yuuri,” he sighed dreamily, the name tasting like a prayer on his lips. “How could I not love your grace? Not just in the way that you move but your grace of character. And your passion?” he said, breathless just considering it. “You think you keep it hidden, but it’s evident in everything that you do. Once I glimpsed it, I couldn’t see anything else when I looked at you,” Victor confessed, drifting back toward Yuuri as if magnetized.  

“You were _always_ Eros. You stole my heart that night in Sochi. But...I thought you didn’t want me after, that you’d tossed me away,” he said with a wince. The pain of it had only grown with time as he had come to know Yuuri better, as he had fallen deeper and deeper in love with him. “Then I saw you skate my routine, and there was such a tenderness in it. I thought there might be a chance for us, after all. I left my home to be closer to you because, even if there wasn't, I wanted to witness that passion every day.”

Speaking these things aloud sharpened Victor’s longing until he physically ached with it. It stole the breath from his lungs. His voice was barely a whisper.

“I wanted to bask in you, like a flower chasing the sun. It almost feels as if…as if I might wither without it. _Yuuri-_ ”

The endless litany of the man’s virtues Victor was attempting voice was abruptly silenced as Yuuri threw his arms around Victor’s neck and kissed him. Victor had waited so long for such a thing to come to pass, that for a moment, all he could do was process the fact that it was - indeed - happening. Then all at once, Victor’s arms found their way around Yuuri to squeeze him close with desperate gratitude. He returned Yuuri’s kiss, thrilling at how it seemed both new and familiar.

By the time it finally ended, Victor’s face was as wet with tears as Yuuri’s, and they laughed at their mutual capacity for maudlin as they both reached to wipe their cheeks.

“You know, there _were_ times when I wondered," Yuuri admitted.

"Oh? My kissing you in front of the whole world didn't give it away?" Victor teased.

Yuuri's cheeks colored even further, but he laughed nonetheless. "Yeah, well, there was that. I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess I just thought I was being wishful. And I was so afraid I was seeing signs that weren't there just because I liked you so much. I convinced myself I was imagining things. I’m sorry," he said, weaving his fingers in Victor's. "I'm sorry that it took so long for me to realize. And I'm sorry that I don’t remember," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you know… _any_ of the things you wrote about."

Victor smiled and took Yuuri's face in hand, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the forehead. "I forgive you. We were _exceedingly_ drunk."

Yuuri seemed grateful for Victor's understanding, but then his smile faltered.

“Wait,” he said as something slowly occurred to him. “Does this mean I’m _not_ a virgin?”

Victor started laughing and could not seem to stop. He hoped Yuuri didn’t take it the wrong way, but he was just _so_ happy, and Yuuri was so very precious.

“Oh, Yuuri,” he sighed - yet again - when he could finally summon the breath to do so. “You most certainly are not,” he assured him. “But,” he added, causing Yuuri to swallow nervously as Victor licked his lips, “we could go back home, if you'd like, and make it _extra_ official.”


	7. Chapter 7

“So what’s this big announcement?” slurred Minako, sprawled beneath a large banner reading ‘Good Luck, Yurio!’. The young man being honored sat across from her, and Minako’s comment made him wilt in exasperation.

“Oh, my gawd. Don’t tell me he’s pregnant _already_ ,” he muttered under his breath. “Yeah!” he yelled over at Yuuri, banging demandingly on the bottle-strewn tabletop. “What do you just _have_ to tell everyone at _my_ party, huh?”

Victor stepped over and bent to examine Yuri closely, causing the young man to cringe back with an indignant scowl.

“Say, Minako,” he inquired. “Did you give Yurio one of those?”

“So what if she did?!” Yuri challenged, snatching up his bottle as if afraid Victor would steal it. “I’m practically an adult!”

“Minako, if he pukes on the floor, you’re cleaning it up,” Mari informed her from where she leaned against a nearby doorway, lighting a cigarette.

The dance instructor was cartoonishly scandalized. “ _What?_ One,” she emphasized, pointing at Yuri’s lone bottle. “One is a tickle,” she shrugged.

Mari scoffed. “Just because it takes you five just to get started doesn’t mean-”

“Enough! I’m fine!” Yuri insisted, tipping back the bottle to chug its contents before anyone could decide to take it away from him. Mari groaned as if contemplating whether or not to go ahead and get the mop bucket ready.

“Yuuri?” Yuuko prompted when the ongoing spectacle finally allowed for it, “You were saying?”

Though he was the one who had brought up the announcement, Yuuri blushed as the whole room turned its attention from the delinquency of a noisy minor to stare at him expectantly. He felt Victor’s arm slip around his waist to give him a fortifying squeeze. Reassuring as his touch was, it made Yuuri’s cheeks blaze all the brighter.

“Oh. Uh,” he stammered, “I guess Victor and I are...dating.”

He held his breath, waiting for their response. He expected it to be positive, but he’d never discussed this kind of thing directly with any of them. He hadn’t had an occasion to before now.

However, no one really responded at all.

“Yes, Yuuri-chan,” said Hiroko in a patient and urging tone, “and what was it you wanted to tell us?”

Yuuri blinked at his mother, wondering which part of what he’d just said was unclear.

“That…we’re dating?”

Hiroko and Yuuko shared an endeared look and a giggle. Yuri rolled his eyes so far back in his head, it shouldn’t have been physically possible.

“ _Really?_ ” said Yuri, staggering to his feet. “EVERYONE ALREADY KNOWS, YOU DUMBASS,” he bellowed, to Yuuri’s consternation.  

“Eh? But we _just-_ ”

“Hey, Yuuri’s parents,” Yuri interrupted, pointing at Toshiya, putting him on the spot. “Did you know?”

Yuuri’s father gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “Well…” he shrugged.

That was enough for Yuri. He swung his attention to Mari. “Did you know?”

“ _Duh_ ,” she said, settling in beside Minako to deposit her spent cigarette into one of her friend’s many empty bottles and light another.

“ _Yuuko?_ ”

Yuuko grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  

“ _Takeshi?_ ”

“Well,” he said, swiping self-consciously at the back of his head. “I didn’t like to mention…”

“Minako!” Yuri demanded, turning his attention almost violently in the woman’s direction. “Did _you_ know they were dating?”

Minako chuckled. “Dating? I thought they were going to tell us they’d eloped. Haven’t they been engaged for months now?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

Yuuri looked around the room at each of the occupants in turn, confused by their smirking.

“ _E-engaged?_ ”

Mari rolled her eyes at him. “Yuuri. You bought matching gold bands. What did you think people would think?”

“But...they’re good luck charms,” he said, his cheeks somehow burning even brighter than they had been already. Why was Victor being so quiet? _And why was he smiling at him like that?_

“A rabbit’s foot is a good luck charm,” Minako explained. “Four leaf clovers are good luck charms. Rings signal an intention to marry.”

“B-but….they’re on our right hands!” Yuuri argued, displaying his ring and the very non-left-handedness of its placement.

“In Russia,” Victor said, joining the discussion for the first time, “we wear our wedding band on our right hand.” Though, he sought to soften the revelation by leaning over and nibbling below the ear he’d just murmured in.

Yuuri was not placated. His mouth fell open with sudden, mortified understanding. “H-how was _I_ supposed to know that?”

“I knew,” Mari shrugged.

Minako nodded. “So did I.”

“Me too!” Yuuko chirped.

“Hey, Mari,” Minako mused, “remember that point halfway through last year’s exhibition when we just _knew_ they were about to lock lips? I almost expected the announcer to inform everyone they were now Mister and Mister Katsuki-Nikiforov, since they do that in Spain. You boys missed an opportunity, if you ask me.”

Mari nodded her agreement as she took another pull off her cigarette.  

“ _See?_ ” said Yuri, gesturing to the gathering and their collective lack of surprise as Yuuri simply stared, flabbergasted. “Baka,” he concluded, dropping back to a seat at the table with Mari and Minako.

“It’s okay, Yuu~ri,” Victor soothed. “Everything has worked out. You might be the last, but now _you_ know we’re engaged, too. And when you win gold, we’ll get married,” he promised, eliciting a charmed sigh from Yuuko who ogled them as if she were watching the kissing scene in a romcom.

“Oh. But then I might be tempted to try to lose to you,” said Victor as if only just realizing this flaw in his brilliant plan. He hummed contemplatively. “I suppose there just has to be gold involved,” he concluded. “If _I_ win, we can get married, too. Okay, Yuuri?” he smiled, as if all was settled.  

Yuri, however, did not agree with those terms. He scrambled to his feet to stomp over and slam both of his hands down on the table in front of Victor who merely looked up at him with a supreme absence of concern.

“AS IF! If that’s what you’re waiting for, you’ll be engaged forever, asshole. I’m the only one who’s going to be winning the gold medals from now on!” Yuri informed him, jabbing a thumb at his own chest.

“Why put some stupid condition on it, anyway?” he added, crossing his arms and turning his back on Victor to punctuate his contempt. “Just do it if you want to do it. Pfft. Dumbasses.”

“Oh!” Hiroko remarked happily, “we could have the ceremony here.” Toshiya nodded agreeably.

“Or the reception?” supplied Yuuko. “How romantic would it be to have ceremony at Ice Castle? _On the ice!_ ” She bounced excitedly, already planning the event in her imagination.

“Heh! We could decorate the zambonis with flowers,” Takeshi teased her.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she pouted, to which Takeshi just laughed.  

“Hey! Yuu~ri,” Minako called in her best drunken imitation of Victor. “I could help you pick out your wedding dress,” she offered. She and Mari shared a sly chuckle.

Yuuri kept trying to interject, but no one was paying him any mind. Suggestions for venues and themes and colors were flying back and forth across the room with no respect for Yuuri’s thoughts on the matter at all.

“What do you say, Yuuri?” Victor asked him quietly, finally drawing his panicked attention away from the imbroglio. “Do you want to get married?”

Yuuri lifted a startled gaze to him. Victor’s serene confidence was a thin veneer for his underlying anxiety. He was asking, seriously and sincerely, if Yuuri would spend the rest of his life with him.  

The gratitude that welled in Yuuri’s chest left no room for breath, and so he simply nodded.

Victor’s cool facade cracked and gave way to a beaming, hopeful grin. “Really?” he asked, breathless, as if he had somehow doubted Yuuri would say yes.

Yuuri nodded more adamantly, his head swimming with elation and oxygen deprivation, the latter of which was not helped in any way by the smothering kiss Victor gathered him in in response.

The moment was sublime. The world fell away, the raucous chattering of the room dimmed. Yuuri was immune to all of it. There was only Victor and him and their kiss, undisturbed except by Yuri’s rising voice in the background which Yuuri attempted to ignore.  

“Fuck you, I’m not going to be the _flower girl!_ What are you laughing at, you hags?! Pffft. Obviously, I’m someone’s best man. I BETTER BE. If it wasn’t for me, the dumbasses still wouldn't know they were dating.”

“Oh, you’re taking credit for that?”

“Hey, _I’m_ the one who told Victor about fanfiction!”

Yuuri’s eyes flew open.

“Otherwise, he would never have found all those Sue!fics the piglet wrote and-”

“Yuri, NO!” Yuuri cried, launching to his feet and leaving a startled Victor behind.  

“EEHH? What do you think you’re doing, you fucking katsudon?!” Yuri demanded as he attempted to fend Yuuri off. Victor erupted in laughter and pulled out his phone to record as Yuuri frantically struggled to clap a hand over Yuri’s loudly uncooperative mouth.

~~~

**_“Trust me, Yuuri,” said Victor, lightly stroking Yuuri’s thigh to put him more at ease. Yuuri looked down at him and shivered; but he nodded, and Victor smiled encouragingly before lowering his face to-_ **

“That’s not what happened,” Yuuri pointed out before pressing his lips to Victor’s bare shoulder. “First, you did the thing with your tongue.”

“Oh, yes. That thing. Thank you, Yuu~ri,” he said, leaning over to give him a grateful peck on the lips. Victor turned his attention back to their latest fic, and Yuuri returned to mapping Victor’s back with his mouth as the man lay on his stomach to type.  

**_Victor tongued his way down Yuuri’s torso, pausing to show special attention to the hollow of his hip. It would provide a convenient handhold later._ **

“And then…Hmm. I was a little too carried away at this point to remember all the details. Yuuri, would you like to write the next bit?”

Yuuri hummed a little refusal against the curve of Victor’s shapely ass cheek. “You’re a better writer. I’m just here for…inspiration,” he said, providing said inspiration in the form of a firm bite. _Ye gods_ , it was like eating a pale, Russian-flavored apple.

Victor squealed quietly and eased his laptop to a close in order to turn to his fiancé. “My muse!” he proclaimed as he summarily glomped him. The laptop bounced to the floor, but neither of them paid it any mind.

Yuuri loved the way Victor gave an occasional little hum while they kissed, as if pleasantly surprised by how very much he continued to enjoy it, no matter how long they practiced or how often. Victor whined in protest when Yuuri pulled away.

“As your muse, I’ve got a plot bunny I'd like to introduce you to,” Yuuri told him.  

“Oh, yes?”

Yuuri nodded and reached to retrieve the riding crop he’d stashed just under the mattress, waving it demonstratively.

“My _god_ , I love you,” Victor muttered, breathless. “Have I been a very bad boy?”

“The worst,” said Yuuri, shaking his head ruefully as he flexed the crop in readiness.

“Please, don’t be _too_ harsh, Daddy,” Victor implored, eagerly squirming into position. Yuuri considered the utterly perfect ass being lifted toward him in offering, pleased to see his bite mark still showed faintly, when a sudden banging rattled the far side of the room.

“THESE WALLS ARE REALLY THIN, YOU KNOW,” came Yuri’s muffled gripe from next door. The mood was ruined as Victor and Yuuri collapsed together in a tangle of quiet glee.

“Oh! OH, YUURI!” Victor moaned loudly between giggles.

“Vitya! Vitya!”

“DUMBASSES!”

 

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


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